


Until You Sleep

by xenowhore



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Terminal Illnesses, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4265016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenowhore/pseuds/xenowhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"It has killed them both to see him unable to perform basic vehicle repairs, to see him left behind hooked to redundant blood bags while they raid without him. Slit has never taken pity on him in front of the other war boys and he knows Nux is grateful. A war boy would rather go under the wheels than have his pack pity him, but it doesn’t stop Slit from shedding his cruel exterior and being tender to him in the dark, soothing his aching body with kisses and sleeping with his forehead pressed against his all night. They breath the same sour, hot air all night long, their mouths inches from one another, and Slit wishes could siphon the poison from Nux’s breath like guzzoline from a jerry can. If anything were that easy."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Nux is dying, and Slit tries to cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until You Sleep

It’s the coughing that wakes him.

Slit is disoriented, ripped from a dream, and for a moment he thinks that he’s on pup-duty before the bone deep, rattling hacking from beside him snaps him fully awake and he realizes what’s going on. He sits up and gropes blindly in the dark for the body beside him. “Nux.” he mumbles around a mouth full of sleep, eyes half-lidded. His hands find cool, clammy flesh and he flinches, gathers himself and pulls Nux up into a sitting position between his legs. He steadies him as Nux continues through his violent coughing spasm.

“Hey, Nux. Hey. S’alright.” he claps him on the back between his shoulder blades, trying to help him dislodge the phlegm. He is fully awake now, shocked into alertness by how cold his driver's skin is against him. Nux bows forward and lets loose a mighty cough, gagging on the end of it -- one hand cupped beneath his chin, the other fiercely gripping Slit’s knee -- and Slit knows there will be blood in Nux’s hand.

Around them in the bunks Slit can hear the restless sounds of war boys awakened from their slumber, shifting and muttering. Most of them are sympathetic; tumor ridden themselves, but there are a handful who are blessedly healthy and the night fevers scare them, make them angry. Sometimes they lash out, yelling pissed off about missing sleep. A mistake made once and only once when it was directed at Nux. Slit still remembers the feeling of the war boys throat under his boot but he remembers more the feeling of Nux’s hand - gently pulling on his arm, whispering for him to forget it and get his ass back in bed. If it weren’t for the pleading and the fact that it was Nux -- _it’s always Nux_ \-- everyone knew that boys neck would have been crushed.

Nux slumps wearily against him now, trembling. His breathing makes Slit think of the sound of a choked engine - of bones rattling inside a bowl, the wind howling furious through the Citadel corridors - and it is all at once eerie and heartbreaking. The tumors press into his lungs and his throat at night, but they press as much into Slit too - they take up all the space in their lives - and he knows he would take the burden of them if he could. Take them in the night and have Nux wake up the way he used to, annoying and prattling on like a pup, grinning at Slit as he pestered him into getting dressed faster.

There was nothing he wouldn’t give.

“There y’go.” Slit says softly, his chin resting on the top of Nux’s head. The coughing has stopped, blessedly. Nux brings his quaking hand up to wipe at his mouth, and he pulls his fingers away and stares dumbly at the thick strings of mucus and blood and on them. “Wanna make out?” he asks, and the combined effort of speaking and laughing bring on more coughing.

Slit gives him a gentle shake in the circle of his arms. “Shut up, you idiot.” but his chastising is all tenderness and he is sure Nux can hear the worry on the edge of his words. There’s never been this much blood before.

Nux wipes his hands on his pants, a smear so dark it’s hardly visible against the black of the cloth. “I know you get off on that shit.” he breathes, struggling to draw in a shaky breath.

“Quit talkin’. Just rest.” Slit says, and he slides an arm across Nux’s stomach, shifting them both more comfortably. His other hand comes up and flutters around Larry and Barry, hesitant, before sliding up the back of his skull, comforting and soft. Nux closes his eyes and leans into it, puppy-like.

“Gettin’ bigger.” he says, swallowing and wincing. Slit grunts noncomitally. He doesn’t want to talk about the tumors that seem to grow more every day - swallowing up the only person worth a damn in this shit place. Fucking _Larry and Barry._ He remembers the day that Nux swiped his finger through engine grease and drew a smiley face on the two lumps. He was so pleased with himself, so utterly happy with his creativity and the humor of it that he couldn’t wait to show Slit. Slit had called him a fucking moron and rolled his eyes, but the moment that Nux turned his back - cackling gleefully - he had smiled and shook his head.

“Don’t look any bigger t’me,” Slit said. “just as stupid, yeah, but they ain’t bigger”. Nux turned his head and looked down, lifting his fingers to gently poke them. His hand dropped back into his lap, leaving a smear of blood on the macabre smiley faces. He shrugged wearily. “You know they are.” he argued softly.

Slit set his jaw and stared ahead into the darkness of the room. He wasn’t going to press it, not when Nux was in this state. Not when he didn’t know how many more days he’d have left with Nux in any state at _all_. What he wanted was his driver back - loud and annoying, sure, but strong. Vibrant. What he wanted to see again was the look on Nux’s face when he slammed his wheel onto the steering column and reverently closed his hands around it, eyes bright and shining, grinning hugely into the sun through the filthy windshield. Working his goggles down over his cornflower eyes and revving the engine.

He wanted these things and instead he was holding a shell.

Almost as if he could sense his thoughts, Nux brought a hand up to the side of Slit’s neck and held it there, squeezed it gently. “I’m still here.” he said, and started coughing again. His back pressed hard into Slit as the coughs wracked his body, the vertebrae of his spine prominent and digging in uncomfortably. The sheen of sweat on his skin made them slide against one another, and had the circumstances been different Slit knew he would react favorably. As it were he tried to ignore how Nux was shivering violently despite the fact that his skin was now feverish to the touch.

“Shit, I know that.” he dipped his chin to Nux’s shoulder, bringing his hand up to entwine their fingers together. Nux squeezed back weakly.

“Slit?” he whispered.

“Mmm?”

“I wanna,” he paused and drew a breath that rattled wetly in his lungs. “I wanna go outside.”

Slit thought of the stinging cold of the wasteland at night, and of Nux’s fail body. “No.” but he knew Nux would fight him on it until he gave in, and really, who was he to deny the boy anything now?

“Please?” it’s a word they so rarely use in their culture and even less with each other. Slit sighs and Nux can tell he is going to give in; he is already struggling to straighten up, to swing his legs over the edge of the bunk.

“Just,” Slit moves quickly, edging off the bunk and standing, putting his arms out - to stop or help - he doesn’t know. “hold the fuck on, will ya?”. Nux bats his hands away weakly, his brows drawing down over his eyes. His weakness shames him and Slit understands; he doesn’t want to help but he _has_ to, so he lets Nux gather his equilibrium and braces himself for a fall - he fainted last time.

Slit catches a look at his face when the clouds clear through the window, Nux breathing heavily, and it is all he can do not to crumple on the spot. Where has his driver gone? Who is this husk that stands in front of him? “Nux…” he tries to say more but fails. He wants to carry him, take this burden - this pain away - but it isn’t his place. He wants many things and right now one of them is to smash someone’s face into a wall at the unfairness of it.

“Quit lookin’ at me like that.” Nux rasps. “not dead yet.”. He tries to smile and even through the drawn skin - the sunken cheekbones, the crust of blood at the corners of his mouth - he is still beautiful. He is still Nux and it’s in his eyes that Slit sees it. Where he has always seen it. All the radiation and poison and thirst in the world can’t take that away.

He sighs irritably, trying to mask how vulnerable he feels. “You’re serious ‘bout this?” he chews the inside of his cheek, worrying a staple with his tongue. Buying time.

“I’m fuckin’ standing here aren’t I?” Nux is leaning against the wall, breathing hard. It’s an effort lately for him to do the simplest task. It has killed them both to see him unable to perform basic vehicle repairs, to see him left behind hooked to redundant blood bags while they raid without him. Slit has never taken pity on him in front of the other war boys and he knows Nux is grateful. A war boy would rather go under the wheels than have his pack pity him, but it doesn’t stop Slit from shedding his cruel exterior and being tender to him in the dark, soothing his aching body with kisses and sleeping with his forehead pressed against his all night. They breathe the same sour, hot air all night long, their mouths inches from one another, and Slit wishes he could siphon the poison from Nux’s breath like guzzoline from a jerry can. If anything were that easy.

Slit tries one more time, an effort he knows is pointless. “It’s freezing out there.”

“Don’t care.” Nux is looking at Slit. Waiting for help, perhaps, but Slit is hesitant - he doesn’t want to assume and wound Nux’s pride. On the other hand, he is leery of letting his driver shuffle out of here alone, along the treacherous ledges of the Citadel where one misplaced step can send you to your death. So he takes Nux’s arm and puts it around his shoulder and puts his other arm around his waist, and together they walk out of the bunks.

Their silence is easy, companionable. Nux is slower than Slit thought he would be and he can tell that the effort is exhausting for him. More than once Slit tries to stop him with a look, but Nux returns it with one of his own - silently pleading - so he keeps walking, his grip tight on Nux’s waist. It is a far cry from how quickly they have ran down these corridors together before, their boots kicking up clouds of dust, white torso’s freshly clayed. Eventually they pass a small alcove where they have spent more than a few times tucked inside, unable to go a moment longer without tearing frantically at one another, bruising kisses and fumbling hands. 

“Mmm.” Nux hums pleasantly as they pass it, and Slit squeezes at his hip. It’s a fond place for both of them. Nux stops, leaning against the wall while Slit stretches his back. It is quiet around them save for his labored breathing and a distant wind.

“Hey.” Nux calls him out of his thoughts. He brushes a thumb gently over Slit’s hip where he stands at his side. He is open mouthed, still breathing hard, but his eyes are shining. “wanna take a break?” and he cocks an eyebrow, looking so much like the old Nux that for a moment Slit feels his pulse jump. Nux’s fingers are fever hot as he dips them just inside the waistband of Slit’s pants, tugging at them. “C’mere.”

Slit leans into him without resistance, pressing their foreheads together. He blocks him against the wall with his body, his palms on the stone on either side of Nux’s head. “Thought you wanted t’go outside.” he murmurs, eyes closed, turning his head and pressing their cheeks together, staples against scars. He moves one palm from the wall and trails his fingers feather light down Nux’s side, and swallows past a lump in his throat at the shiver he gets in response.

“Slit.” Nux nudges his face into the crook of a shoulder. “kiss me.” he mumbles into skin. Slit can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest and he is torn between wanting to crush him into his arms, envelop him, _all of him,_ and pushing him away. He turns his head and captures Nux’s seeking lips with his own, and for once he leads him slowly. There is no frantic need, no growling clash of teeth. Just soft and gentle, their lips sliding agonizingly slowly against one another. Slit slants his mouth tenderly, over and over, his calloused hand cupping Nux’s jaw, and he brushes just the tip of his wet pink tongue along Nux’s lips and it is dizzying bliss. Nux exhales shakily into Slit’s mouth as the lancer traces the lines of his V8 scar, his fingertips feather light on his sweat slicked skin. A moan that makes Slit ache low in his belly crawls up hoarse from Nux’s mouth and suddenly he is gripping him hard, pressing his weight into him against the wall, growling possessively.

It happens in an instant. Slit wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t spent the last couple weeks becoming hyper aware of his drivers every nuance, but he hears the moan change from pleasure to pain, the smallest change in pitch, the way his body jerks and curls away from Slit infinitesimally. Instantly he is letting go, standing back, his hands shaking at his side.

“What…?” Nux takes a step toward him, his hands imploring. He tries to drag Slit back toward him by looping his fingers through his belt but Slit stops him, gently, covering his hands with his own.

“Nux,” he blows out a frustrated breath. “I don’t…I can’t fuckin’ hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.” Nux says, and he leans forward for a kiss, but Slit turns from it and tries instead to pull Nux into an embrace. They struggle and Slit gasps and squeezes his eyes shut as Nux paws him through his pants.

“See?” he pants, insistent, making Slit growl through bared teeth. “you want me.”

“For fucks sake, Nux!” Slit shouts, making Nux flinch. He sighs, lowering his voice. “‘course I want you. But I’ll,” he clasps his hands behind his head and steps back from him, agitated, nervous. He shakes his head, his mouth a hard line. “I’ll fuckin hurt you. You’re…” and he gestures, makes a pained face, drops his hands. It doesn’t need to be said.

Nux is still, his eyes staring hard at the floor. His pride is greatly wounded - his ego a delicate, bruised thing between them that is impossible to ignore. He glares, trying to curl in on himself, escape the embarrassment that hangs thick in the air. Slit tries not to replay the look on his face when he shouted at him, the hurt in his eyes vivid and unmistakable. He takes a step toward him, lowering his voice. “Shit, Nux. Look, I’m --”

The punch is a farce in comparison to the driver of old, but it is still all war boy and nothing to shake a stick at. Slit’s head snaps back and he can feel his lip splitting open, the soft flesh meeting teeth and giving way. He stumbles back a step, staring wide eyed at Nux. The sharp tang of warm blood fills his mouth, the familiarity of it jolting him into alertness. It is the first time in his life that Slit does not react to an attack with anger. Instead, he nods grimly. “I deserved that.”

“Fuck you!” Nux shouts, and he takes another swing at Slit who ducks it easily, catching his fist and spinning him, trapping him in his arms. Nux struggles fiercely for a moment but soon dissolves into coughs again, his body overwhelmed with emotional adrenaline and fatigue. His knees buckle and Slit holds him steady, sliding them down against the wall. Weakly, Nux pushes against him, crawling away on his hands and knees. His coughing turns to retching and his body heaves with the effort, his fingers curling into claws in the dust - Slit watches helplessly, seeing the outline of his ribs through skin so fine it looks like paper. He watches until Nux has emptied what precious little was in his stomach, panting, his forehead pressing against the stone floor.

Finally, Nux sits up. He sits back on his legs and sways unsteadily, dragging his arm across his mouth. He is shaking, his whole body trembling like a leaf, and when he turns to look at Slit there is a wetness at the corner of his eyes. When he speaks, it takes him a moment - he coughs, clears his throat, swallows with a wince.

“I miss you.” he whispers, unable to meet Slit’s eyes, instead looking down at his hands curled limp in his lap. “I want you all the time. But I’m dying and you don’t want me, and it…” he bites down hard on his upper lip, shaking his head. “I’m rust. I’m rust and you’re still so shine. You’re never going--”

It is all Slit can take. He reaches forward and grabs him, pulls him into the protective circle of his arms. “Stop it, Nux. _Shut up._ ” he hisses fiercely, pressing Nux’s face into his chest where he comes undone, slumping against the lancer, his only safe place. All the resistance leaves his body and he quakes with shudders, trying to swallow his cries, the very things that war boys are taught from pups to never give in to. War boys don’t cry. War boys don’t fear death. War boys are good for one thing - killing - and crying doesn’t fit into that anywhere. The shame he feels is palpable, it suffocates him.

“Nothin’ rust ‘bout you, you idiot.” Slit rubs his hand along the back of Nux’s skull. “and you know that’s bullshit. I always want you. You felt it.”

Nux sighs, his breathing shaky. He rubs his face against Slit’s shoulder, smearing tears and sweat and bloody spit. It would have been off putting to anyone else, but Slit just puts his chin on the top of his head and rubs small circles into his lower back, oblivious to anything but his driver's pain. Neither of them say anything for a while. Slit lets Nux have his moment of softness, and it is his acceptance and understanding that Nux loves him most for.

“Sorry ‘bout your lip.” Nux says quietly when he is calm. He touches the split with gentle fingers, tracing Slit’s mouth, and they drift off his lips and along his wicked scar, finding the glint of metal. He taps against the staples with a fingernail and Slit makes an affectionate sound, leaning into the touch. “S’alright.” he shrugs. “ain’t nothin.”

“Don’t tell anyone I cried.” he says; “or I’ll do it again. Harder.”

Slit laughs even though he feels like he is splitting apart.

“I thought we’d get a few more rides together.” Nux says after a while. They haven’t moved from the wall and lounge easily against each other. He says it so nonchalantly, resigned to his fate in a way that Slit both respects and hates him for. There is no greater calling for a war boy than to go to Valhalla, but to die of the sickness is not a great death. Slit has seen war boys die choking to death on their own vomit, thrashing in pain, crying out for mothers they never knew. He has seen their empty, staring eyes and there is nothing chrome in them, no brilliant fireballs carrying them to the gates.

“I’ll take ya out.” Slit says, when what he wants to say is _shut up, you don’t know shit._

Nux turns and looks at him and for a moment Slit isn’t sure if he’s going to laugh or cry, but in the end he just nods, and snuggles further down against him, his arms wrapped tight around his waist.

“That’d….that’d be shine.” he says, his voice choked.

Slit grunts and leans his head back against the wall. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the feel of Nux against him, on the fact that he’s still breathing, still here. For now, it is all he cares about. In the morning they’ll face the pain together, and Slit will force him to eat a few bites and help him struggle to get his pants and utility belt on. Nux will feign embarrassment and tell him to leave him alone; go to the repair bay or out on a run, and Slit will tell him to shut the fuck up like he does every single morning. They will continue in this fashion as they have for the last few weeks, until the morning comes when Slit wakes up alone.

When that morning comes, all the Rotgut in the world won’t be enough.

“Slit?” Nux says into the silence, almost asleep. Slit has to swallow twice before he can speak.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll go with ya, but you know you can’t drive for shit.”

It’s a curious thing to laugh through tears.


End file.
